


Stripped

by Asharyn



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asharyn/pseuds/Asharyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnibel Bubblegum is the CEO of a company when she meets Marceline, a stripper at a local strip club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Rippa-tip, rippa-tip, rippa-tip._

Fingers drilled a rhythm against the finely-polished cherry desk. Bonnibel Bubblegum sat unamused by the banter of the employees before her. The distinguished responsibility of being CEO of a corporation brought with it the necessity of meetings such as this. It was always the same; a room full of men vying for any opportunity at ceasing her “throne”. After multiple failed attempts to uproot her from her position, she had come to fondly regard it as such.

Unfortunately for them, it was unlikely to happen. Ever since the tragic death of her father and the subsequent legal battles for the business, she had come to prove her worth time and time again. They had no real reason to cross her name from the roster and, Bubblegum liked to imagine, never would.

“Ms. Bubblegum, can you please explain why you saw it fit to purchase over half of the shares that were in the hands of our shareholders?” Bonnibel ceased the clicking of her nails at the question. The room seemed to draw in an anxious, collective breath. Sitting forward in the plush leather chair, she brushed away the loose strands of strawberry-blonde hair in her face before responding.

“We are well on our way to being an independent corporation. There was an excess of profit this year, and since we own almost all of the buildings, land, and equipment we use, the only other place to put that money would be in buying back the company.” Her words were staccato and filled with an underlying bitterness. She capped off the statement before he could speak again. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid that will take away your position on the board?”

The bob in his throat was confirmation enough for Bonnibel. With a sense of finality, she removed the reading spectacles from her face and set them on the table.

“Gentlemen, I feel we have covered enough here today. Thank you.” As she stood, the group before her mirrored the action. A customary round of applause was given followed by a hushed quiet, underlined with whispered gossip.

Waiting till the prickles had left her toes, Bonnibel made her way to the room’s towering window. The _tik-tok_ of her heels against the black-and-white speckled granite cut through the remaining _husht-psht_ of lingering conversations. Afternoon sunlight beamed through the portal with an intense vibrancy. Heat radiated from it, warming the chill that had settled in her bones from hours of being pummeled by the AC. It wasn’t that old age had taken her body, no, Bonnibel was a mere twenty-eight, the youngest CEO in America, but the stress of her current position had weathered her body substantially.

“Hello again, Ms. Bubblegum.” The abrupt intrusion startled Bonnibel a moment, and an audible _tik_ resounded as she settled a heel back down to the floor.

“Oh Braco, I didn’t hear you approach. Hello... again.” She attempted momentarily to recall the last time they had spoken. After nothing came to mind she decided it best to skirt the topic.

“You look fabulous as always.” Bonnibel gave a polite smile, her insides wringing with disdain at the more than obvious flirtation in his voice.

“Thank you, Braco. Now was there something you wished to discuss?” He ran a nervous hand through his short, caramel colored, hair.

“I, uh, just wanted to let you know that you handled the board very well today.” Bubblegum angled her body towards him, her arms crossing over her breasts. If there was one thing she hated more than board meetings, it was when faltering advances consumed gross amounts of her time.

“It was the same as it has always been.  Now, if there isn’t anything else, I’ll be heading back to my office.” Bonnibel had meant for the sentence to be the end of the conversation, but Braco interjected as she made to pass by him.

“Oh wait! I meant to... well. Some of the other guys,” at this he nodded his head towards the doorway where three other men stood waiting, “were going to go to that fancy new cabaret that opened up downtown. I was- I mean, we were wondering if you’d want to come along?” His voice ended in a high-pitched whine. Bonnibel merely regarded his offer with one raised eyebrow.

“And why would I have any interest to join you in doing this?” She had to admit, Braco’s nervousness mixed with the boldness of his inquiry had caught her attention.

“Well, they do have some specials going on like six-dollar cocktails and...” Bonnibel watched the movement of his lips while she considered the proposition.

Glancing back at the doorway briefly, a sudden thought crossed her mind. Something about the situation to her seemed oddly akin to a test. She felt like she should have been sitting at a cramped desk, chewing the eraser off a pencil while determining which bubble to fill in on a form. Time seemed to slow and a prickling sensation flashed across the back of her neck when her eyes locked with a gentlemen waiting at the door. Crystal clarity in situations like this had saved Bonnibel before and in that moment she became distinctly aware that she had been snared in a potentially deadly political trap.

There were two options. She could say no. Afterall, she was already nervous just thinking about setting foot into such a place. Not to mention she never had before and these were the most unlikely of people to pose as her guides on this journey. What would happen if she did say no, though? It would save her the embarrassment, yes, but it would also cause a subtle upheaval within her ranks. This opportunity would give them the chance to see her outside of a business setting. They would get to see her as a person, not just a corporate paper-pusher; a topic that had arisen more than once to bite her where it hurt. If she denied them this, they would almost certainly label her as a coward. More fuel to an ever growing fire. It seemed to Bonnibel that there was only one correct course of action.

“Of course Braco. I’d be honored to join you and the others tonight.”

****

The limousine ride to the destination was nerve-wracking for Bonnibel, to say the least. She found herself perusing the internet on her smartphone for any hint to how these places operated. The variables ended up being too high, information conflicted, and it was all the same conclusion on each webpage.

_You just have to experience it for yourself._

Multiple times the other passengers in the vehicle regarded her quiet, if not off-setting, demeanor with “humorous” jabs. She didn’t have the time to spare for looking up from the screen but laughed along regardless, rather oblivious to the context of the jokes.

“Ah finally, we’re here!” someone remarked. Terror settled, cold and dense, at the pit of Bonnibel’s stomach.

The place was glitzy. All sterling lettered signs and flashing lights. Bonnibel swallowed the lump in her throat as the group vacated the vehicle. She barely had time to collect herself before the flow of people around her led her through the shining double doors and into the dimly lit entrance way. Bouncers, burly and rippling with veiny muscles, stood to each side of the second set of double doors, checking IDs. They glanced at the group Bonnibel was part of. Their formal attire must have been signal enough that they were all well over the required age to gain entrance. The sudden want to be younger than twenty-one flashed through Bonnibel’s mind. Fighting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as if she were watching a horror film, they finally entered the inner sanctum of the cabaret.

It was surprisingly spacious. The interior was glamourous with a busy pattern of maroon and gold carpeting and heavy crimson velvet that rippled along the walling, interrupted only by the entrances to private booths. A well-lit stage sat against the far wall, a stark contrast to the dim lighting in the rest of the building. Tables and chairs punctuated the rest of the open floor where most of the business’s guests were seated. It was busy, so busy that Bonnibel was hoping there would be no place for them to sit.

Something delicately pressed against the mid of her back and when she turned to see what it was,  Braco’s half-smile and worried gaze was what she was met with. His hand pressed against her, leading her and the rest of the group to an open table towards the middle of the room. It hadn’t been especially awkward until that moment. Now all of them sat at the round table, passing glances at one another and the room about them, sizing up their companions and the environment. That was about the time Bonnibel finally took a good look at the rest of the cabaret’s staff.

Years of maintaining a facade for her company had gifted Bonnibel the ability to innately control her facial expressions. You could give away a lot in the way your face immediately reacted to certain situations, so she learned to only look the way she wanted. Many mornings had been spent in front of a mirror, perfecting everything from coy smiles to questioning eyebrows and even pouts. Now she could barely keep a severe blush from consuming her face.

All of the women employed seemed no older than twenty-five. Or at least if they were, they had either the aid of an expert plastic surgeon or a healthy lifestyle. Bonnibel was absolutely certain she had never seen so much bare skin in one place her whole life. She had to admit to herself in that moment, as a set of finely shaped breasts, unhindered by any sort of brazier, graced her peripheral vision, that she was a prude.

“Well aren’t you all out in your finest tonight.” The voice was suave and filled with unbridled sensuality. Bonnibel turned her head only slightly, her eyes craning the rest of the way to take in the figure of the woman standing beside her.

She was a perfect example of male fantasy. Her legs took up the majority of her body, two seemingly endless streams of smooth creamy white that came to a halt at pronounced hips. Up from the V below her belly button her abdomen continued on in a flat plane. The woman’s breasts, perfectly round and plump, could catch gawking stares from across the room. Up the slender neck, and through locks of thick and luxurious waist-length black hair, Bonnibel finally let her eyes settle on the woman’s face. She was a kind of classic beauty. Something in stark comparison to the rest of the women that Bonnibel had seen so far in the room. High cheek bones defined by a strong jawline, with lips that formed a distinct line; curling across her face with a devious air. The emerald hue of her eyes was distinct against the paleness of her face, outlined with a bare minimum of dark eyeliner.

Bonnibel was aware that she had been staring for a prolonged period of time when the woman looked down at her, their gazes locking. She grinned like a cheshire cat. A portion of her hair cascaded down half of her face, seemingly enhancing the untamed beauty she controlled. It was all Bonnibel could do to keep her face stoic at all, but the blush that creeped up at her collar and flushed her cheeks was out of her control.

“Haha! I told you the boss was an ice queen for a reason!”

“Looks like Braco was doomed from the start, am I right?!”

“Someone buy her a lap dance!”

“Screw the lap dance! Buy her a private showing!”

Eyes wide with disbelief, Bonnibel shot a glare at the men sitting at the table around her. It did little to quell their excited banter and before she could protest they had all thrown wads of crumpled bills into the middle of the table; an offering to the woman that Bonnibel had been admiring moments before. She leaned across, her lithe arms stretching out before her, so that her fingers could pluck the bills from the middle. As she withdrew, her eyes met those of Bonnibel’s again before straightening the paper out in her palm. Her thumbs drew at the bills like cards from a deck, counting them.

“Alright baby. Looks like they paid your way.” She smirked again. A predatory thing this time. Bonnibel felt like she was the rabbit to the wolf’s meal.

Slim fingers wrapped around the satin of her necktie, pulling with deliberation until Bonnibel was on her feet. She shot one last glare to the men at the table, all of whom, excluding the deflated Braco, were cheering her on.

 _Animals._ Bonnibel thought as the woman dragged her along. As they passed by other groups, Bonnibel was distinctly aware of the eyes that were upon them. She wanted to slap the woman’s hand away from her, ask her to leave her alone, but she knew that it would just cause a larger scene than the one she was already in. To all of Bonnibel’s knowledge this was a normal occurrence in such places. She swallowed back the pride welling up within her, allowing the woman to escort her with no resistance.

Their destination was a spacious booth towards the back of the building, and with a flick of her wrist, the woman released Bonnibel’s tie, using her own momentum to hurdle her into the space. She had little grace in high heels on a good day and found herself sprawled against a velvet couch after a few misplaced steps. Recollecting herself quickly, Bonnibel watched as the woman drew the curtains to the booth and swiftly disappeared into an adjoining room.

Each passing minute brought with it more terror for Bonnibel. She wondered what her employees would think of her in this position. Sure, she had never really been settled in her sexuality but she was most certainly not an ice queen. She had shared her bed, and her heart, before. It just had become background noise after her father passed away and she became CEO. This whole situation seemed silly. Maybe she could merely tell the woman to keep the money, and let her go without resorting to anything of a distasteful nature? Bonnibel’s thought process was broken as the woman stepped back into the room, clothed in a revealing version of what Bonnibel was dressed in.

Bonnibel couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“W-What are you laughing at?!” The woman barked, Bonnibel brought her hand away from her mouth and brushed her eyes up and down the woman before her.

“I just- What are you suppose to be? A librarian? A school teacher? Maybe even a secretary?” Bonnibel heard the woman huff,  her arms crossed over her chest in an indignant manner.

“Since you were with all of those business men out there I felt this would be a more appropriate outfit, miss important-business-woman.” She sounded almost a bit defeated but her actions played a different story as she strode to where Bonnibel was seated, her legs crosses professionally.

“It’s Bubblegum. Miss Bonnibel Bubblegum, if we’re going to be formal.” She placed a knee to one side of Bonnibel. Her hands came to a rest on either side of her head as she maneuvered herself so that she straddled Bonnibel’s lap. She uncrossed her legs as the woman stared down at her, lust clouding her half-lidded eyes.

Leaning forward, her lips almost grazed against Bonnibel’s ear, “Well then, _Bonni_ , I could change into something else, I have plenty of outfits. Plenty of personas.”

“Anything but yourself, I assume.” Bonnibel scoffed. The woman drew back and as their eyes met, Bonnibel could swear she saw realization there before it was replaced with that infuriating smirk once again.

“I like you.” The words spread smooth across the distance between them. No malice, no misunderstanding, just honest admiration.

“I’m sure you do.” Bonnibel’s reply was emphasized by a deadpan stare. The woman merely smiled wider.

“No, really, I do. I’m gonna do something special for you.” There was a sense of playfulness in her words and Bonnibel felt immediately uneasy. The woman brought the tip of her index finger to her jaw, running the nail softly along the line of it till it rested beneath Bonnibel’s chin.

It felt like forever that they held one another's attention. Bonnibel felt like a snake being charmed. The woman’s eyes seemed to go on forever and she felt that if she could merely shrink down small enough that should could swim in them forever. A breath that was trapped in her chest slowly dispersed through her nostrils as the finger left her chin, seemingly to go nowhere of importance.

“What could you possibly do for me?” Bonnibel finally managed in the most hush of tones. She was certain if the other woman’s lips stretched any farther that her face would split in half.

“An attitude changer. You could use it.” Just as a retort was about to leave Bonnibel’s lips she felt the feather-light caress of the woman’s fingertips against her upper thigh, just below the hem of her skirt.

She knew she should have said no. Told the woman to take her “attitude changer” somewhere else, but the ever deepening gaze they shared and the way her heart began to beat rapidly, caused the words to die in her lungs. The woman raised her leg slightly, nudging Bonnibel’s thigh to the side with the point of her knee. She obliged, and the woman’s fingers continued on unhindered. They slowly and meticulously traced a path up her thigh and Bonnibel found her teeth grinding in impatience.

When the woman’s fingers finally pressed against her warmth she couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. Her fingers curled against the fabric of the booth, hoping to relieve some tension through her fingertips. At first her fingers played a frustrating game against the barrier of Bonnibel’s underwear. She only seemed to apply pressure to places that she knew were off target, and brushed teasingly against her throbbing pleasure point to elicit sharp intakes of breath from Bonnibel. Only after the woman was satiated with her teasing did she fully press her fingers against the most sensitive area of Bonnibel’s womanhood.

It was like having someone turn on a light switch. Bonnibel was no stranger to the act, but at the hands of another person it was a completely different ball game and this women just so happened to be a seasoned veteran; homerun champion, in fact. The digits rubbed intricate patterns against the hardened bundle of nerves and, as she tried to keep herself quiet, Bonnibel found her moans to come with every panted breath. Their eyes never deviated and she wished there were buttons, folds, anything on that godforsaken couch to grab hold of as the woman built her up.

Her crest came suddenly, like a surprise right-hook, and Bonnibel’s head fell back against the top of the cushion, her eyes pinched shut, and a choked groan escaping her tensed body. It seemed to roll on forever as the woman refused to let up, her body tensed and shook until she melted back into the seat, panting and refusing to open her eyes.Through the post-coital haziness Bonnibel could make out the sound of the other woman chuckling before the feel of a soft presence brushing against her lips.

“Good bye for now, Bonnibel.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

Since early that morning, before the sun had risen, Bonnibel had been in her office, meticulously scrawling her signature across a stack of papers nearly three feet tall. It was shaping up to be a regular Tuesday. Just like every day had been since the events that transpired at the cabaret two weeks ago. Bonnibel had to admit that many nightmares had been fueled by the thought of what would happen when she went to work the next day. Every time she closed her eyes she would be standing in front of the board, all of them jeering or frowning, as if they knew what had happened in that little booth. But it never happened, and no one seemed to notice. Life moved on, and Bonnibel made a promise to herself to never go anywhere with Braco again. Or anyone from the board, for that matter.

“Ms. Bubblegum?” the phone at the edge of Bonnibel’s desk buzzed through with her secretary’s southern-drawl.

“Yes, Tracy?” she replied.

“There’s someone here to see yah. They say they know yah. Got no appointment.” Tracy, though a good secretary, had always come off as boorish to Bonnibel. Now was no exception. Just as she went to press the button down on her end and speak, a voice crackled through the intercom.

“I told you! She does know me!” Bonnibel’s blood came to an icey halt. She knew that voice, knew what it meant. A long moment passed as she mulled over her options.

“Ms. Bubblegum, would yah rather I call security and have ‘em escorted out?”

“C’mon! Ugh,” the other voice popped erratically through the static, “Bonnibel, please tell this crazy woman you know me!”

“Who are yah callin’ crazy? Huh? Wanna start somethin’-”

“Tracy. Please send them in.” While the banter was proving to be comical to Bonnibel she felt it best to stop it before it got out of hand. The line stopped buzzing and the handle of her office door twisted; a quiet _sqeee_ signalled its opening and subsequent close.

Bonnibel stood, pushing the office chair away with the back of her knees. The woman that slinked her way into the space was both familiar and different all at once. There were the obvious differences, like she was fully clothed this time, and the not so obvious, like how she seemed nervous. It took her a few moments to walk her way to Bonnibel’s desk, coming to a halt behind one of the chairs before it, her hands resting on the back. Bonnibel took note of the way her fingers scratched at the leather backing, curling repeatedly as her eyes darted around the room. She looked at her surroundings, but not at Bonnibel.

“Hello, uh...” Bonnibel faltered a moment, completely aware that she had given away her name so easily and never received one in return.

“It’s Marceline.” the woman finished her sentence. She locked her gaze with Bonnibel’s, nothing but confidence in the depths of her eyes. “Marceline Abadeer, if we’re going to be formal.”

Marceline’s attitude was contagious, Bonnibel had to give her that, and for the first time in years she found herself smiling in that place. Smiling and meaning it. “It’s a pleasure, Marceline.”

Bonnibel extended her hand out to Marceline. The woman shuffled awkwardly, reaching out and taking Bonnibel’s hand in her own. Despite the fact she was wearing a hoodie, Marceline’s fingers were cool. It immediately eased the stiffness that had built in Bonnibel’s hand from the paperwork.

“So, Ms. Abadeer- I can assume it’s miss, correct?” Marceline nodded. “Ah, then, Ms. Abadeer. May I ask why you’ve come here?” Bonnibel reached behind her, wheeling the office chair in close and sitting at the edge. She crossed her legs and perched her elbows before her, settling her chin across intertwined fingers.

Marceline glanced at the chair in front of her, then craned her head to look at the door she came through. Bonnibel could sense the internal conflict that ensued. Sit, or run?

She eventually decided on sit, and took a nonchalant seat with her legs sprawled to either side. Bonnibel took a moment to envy the freedom of being able to wear jeans.

“Look. I’m just going to be honest about this, cause I’ve been thinking about this a lot and I don’t-” Marceline stopped herself, only continuing after she had sank lower into the chair, her mouth barely visible above the collar of her hoodie. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Like, it’s starting to get really weird for me, ok?” She shoved her hands deep in the front pocket of her jacket after emphasizing her words with them.

Silence proceeded. Bonnibel kept her facade, no emotion to her features, while she sat in disbelief at what she had just heard. She didn’t know what to say. For two weeks Bonnibel had essentially willed away any thoughts of the woman that was now sitting in front of her, figuring that she would never see her again. For two weeks, this woman, this... Marceline, had been doing nothing but thinking about her, maybe even hoping they would meet again. Even if she had to make it happen herself.

Bonnibel couldn’t deny that her heart was racing. Ever since she heard Marceline’s voice over the intercom it had been attempting escape from her chest. For the life of her, she couldn’t speak. Marceline kept her head turned to the side, eyes fixed out a window to her left. Her cheeks turned five or six different hues of red before she stood abruptly.

“Ok. Yea. No. This was dumb. Sorry. I’m out.” Marceline’s voice was filled with defeat and finality. She pivoted on her heel, her dark mane swirling about her, and briskly started making her way towards the exit.

“Marceline.” Bonnibel’s commanding voice filled the room, loud enough to cause Marceline to stop and look back over her shoulder. Lifting herself from her seat and grabbing her purse and jacket, Bonnibel began to make her way around the desk. “Would you like to come with me to get a cup of coffee? There’s a lovely place just down the street.”

Coming to a stop near Marceline, Bonnibel began pulling her arms through the sleeves of her grey wool coat. There was another moment of silence, Bonnibel decided to speak again.

“We could talk more. In a place where my secretary can’t hear us.” She flicked her index finger at the door.

Marceline shifted awkwardly on her feet, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Yea. Yea, that’d be good.”

Shouldering her purse, Bonnibel made her way out of the office. Marceline followed suit, keeping up with her pace. As they passed by Tracy’s desk, Bonnibel rapped her knuckles twice against it’s surface.

“I’ll be back, Tracy. Let anyone who calls know I’m out.” As they continued past, Bonnibel was vaguely aware of Marceline making a rude gesture toward Tracy. A hushed curse word was heard from behind. Bonnibel decided to ignore it with a small grin.

When the elevator doors closed, Bonnibel seized the moment of privacy.

“I’m curious, Marceline. When did you find out about me working here?” She kept her voice even and casual.

“Two days ago or so. I was uh,” she paused, ruffling the midnight locks on the side of her head, “I was trying to find an address, or a phone number, anything to get in contact with you. This came up with the search results.”

Silence again. Bonnibel watched Marceline, giving her a moment. As if on cue, Marceline shot a confused look towards Bonnibel.

“Whoa, wait, you don’t think I’m here to ask for a job, or money, do you?” If Bonnibel hadn’t been satisfied with Marceline’s earlier statement, she was now. Smiling softly she averted her gaze to the crack between the elevator doors.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Marceline. I have to be careful in this position; most people don’t have pure intentions.” Marceline gave an audible scoff.

“Oh trust me, I know that. Don’t worry. But I’m not a cliche. You’ll be happy to know I love my job. I get to dance to great music, meet a lot of new people, and I make bank.”

“You’re right. I think you’re the complete opposite of at least one cliche.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Bonnibel returned her gaze to Marceline and grinned.

“Isn’t it usually the customer who becomes infatuated with the stripper?”

Ding. Elevator doors peeled apart, spilling forth the sound of Marceline’s erratic laughter. Bonnibel marched from the platform, heading for the exit, seemingly uncaring if Marceline chose to follow. Most people had their eyes on her, after all, it wasn’t often the quiet of the front lobby was broken.

Once she had made it through the revolving doors at the front of the building, Bonnibel could hear the soft _tupp_ -ing of Marceline’s sneakers on the concrete sidewalk as she jogged to catch up. After she set her pace next to Bonnibel she cleared her throat into her fist.

“You could’ve waited for me.” she muttered sullenly, her hair covered her face like a mask. Bonnibel only chuckled in reply.

The rest of their walk to the coffee shop was in peaceful quiet. Bonnibel mused silently to herself about how long it had been since she had enjoyed the company of someone else, even if it was the most odd of someones. It seemed odd to her how reassuring Marceline’s presence was, afterall, it was a rare occurrence that she left her office on a work day.

When they finally arrived at their destination, they set themselves at a tiny, circular, table. When Bonnibel placed her purse on top of its wooden surface it swayed precariously. Marceline set her elbows on the edge, swaying it back towards her and keeping it from moving. Before either of them could talk a waitress interrupted, asking for their orders.

Bonnibel got her usual, the largest hot americano they had, and to her surprise, Marceline ordered the same thing. As the waitress departed their eyes met, and held, for a period of time that should have been uncomfortable. Bonnibel found herself tumbling down the rabbit hole again, losing herself in the vastness that was Marceline’s irises. It came to a halt when their drinks were set before them, the table teetered only slightly as Marceline’s upper body held it in place.

“So what does this mean?” Marceline asked as she ripped a handful of white sugar packets open and began pouring them into her espresso.

“What does what mean?”

“This. Asking me to come to a coffee shop with you.” After the sugar had been added, Marceline poured a healthy amount of creamer in. The mixture bubbled and swirled with a rich caramel color.

“I would have thought that seemed obvious.”

“It’s not. At least not for me.” Tink. Marceline added her spoon to the mix, stirring placidly. Bonnibel watched her, becoming suddenly engrossed in mapping out the details of Marceline’s mundane actions.

“It may surprise you, but I don’t actually enjoy conversing with strangers in my office. Especially not ones whom I want to know more about.” Bonnibel took a long sip of her beverage, mirroring Marceline’s actions as she did the same.

“Oh, so you want to know more about me, hm?” a smirk crossed Marceline’s face. Where that smirk had infuriated Bonnibel on the night they first met, now it sought to give her a heart attack.

“I do.”

“So does that mean this is a date?” Bonnibel couldn’t help but chuckle at the reluctant confidence in Marceline’s voice. She clicked her forefinger nail against the coffee cup before replying.

“Well, we are at a public place, enjoying coffee, and getting to know each other.” Marceline shrugged her shoulders, a soft _ah_ left her lips.

“Then I suppose we should talk about ourselves, huh?”

Bonnibel merely bobbed her head in silent agreement.

“Well, since we’re dating now,” Marceline looked up mid-sentence to gauge Bonnibel’s reaction. The rolling of eyes and slight smirk must have urged her on. “I guess I should start by telling you I have a son.”

If not for years of practice, Bonnibel may have spewed the sip she had just taken across the table. Thankfully, that was not the case. She set her cup down, crossed her arms over her chest and raised a thinly-lined eyebrow inquisitively at Marceline. “I thought you said you weren’t a cliche?”

Marceline’s response of flashing her middle finger and peeking the tip of her tongue out of the edge of her lips was deserved. It was Bonnibel’s turn to smirk devilishly.

“Now, now, don’t make a scene. How old is he?”

Marceline reluctantly replied after a moment of pouting, “He’s four. He’ll tell you he’s four-and-a-half if you ask him, though. It’s only funny because his birthday was last month.”

“What’s his name?” Bonnibel softened her voice. Even if the news had been shocking, it was obvious that Marceline cared a great deal about the situation at hand if she was willing to admit it so soon. Honesty was something Bonnibel could appreciate.

Marceline’s gaze was again diverted somewhere off to her right, and as she seemingly reminisced a smile formed on her lips that was filled with genuine love. Bonnibel felt like her heart was gripped in a vice. “His name is Finn. He’s my little hero.”

Bonnibel couldn’t help but smile as she shifted her gaze from Marceline to the black liquid in the cup that she cradled in her palms. After a long moment Marceline finally returned to the conversation, and for hours they talked about nothing in particular. Bonnibel forgot about time, about the business, and indulged in the comfort of idle chit-chat. It was something she had never enjoyed before, not with any of the people she had talked with over her years as CEO, but with Marceline it was more than enjoyable. It was addicting.

“I should get going. I’ve been away from the office too long already.” Bonnibel sighed.

“I need to get going too, won’t be long before I need to get ready for work.”

It was difficult for Bonnibel to restrain a frown. During their discussion they had seemed to shed the reality of their lives. Now that it was ending, reality seemed more apparent than before.

“So, uh, should I just keep coming to your office whenever I want to see you?” Bonnibel scoffed intensely at the question.

“I’m going to have to ask you never to come to my office again, actually.”

Marceline seemed taken aback, like Bonnibel’s words had been a physical blow. Digging through her purse she retrieved a pen and one of her business cards. Flipping the beige card over to its blank side, Bonnibel scratched a number onto the surface before extending it to Marceline.

“That’s my personal number. If you need to reach me, use that one.” standing up, she began shrugging on her coat. “And as for our next _date_ how about here, on Thursday?”

Marceline stayed seated, watching as Bonnibel shouldered her purse. “Same time?”

“Same time, if you don’t mind.” Bonnibel paused, waiting for an answer.

“That’d be perfect.” Marceline’s response came with a toothy grin.

“Then I’ll see you Thursday, Marceline.” As Bonnibel turned and started her walk back to her office, she could plainly make out Marceline’s voice over the din of the surrounding noise.

“Good bye for now, Bonnibel.”

****

The door burst open to Bonnibel’s loft as Marceline and her spilled into the space, their actions heated.

It had been months since their first date at the coffee shop and they had met multiple times since. Sometimes it was difficult for them to make time to see each other. Marceline’s schedule had her working almost every night of the week, and Bonnibel frequently worked through the day with no lunches or breaks. Even on some days where Bonnibel could find the time to escape the prison of her office, Marceline would be taking care of Finn.

“Mmm- are you sure you have time?” Bonnibel murmured against Marceline’s lips.

“Mnh, huh? Yea! I told you already, Bon...” she trailed off as Bonnibel unzipped her hoodie, brushing the article off her shoulders and onto the floor. Marceline’s fingers fumbled blindly at the buttons on Bonnibel’s pink suit jacket.

“Something about your father watching Finn, right?” a gasp left Bonnibel’s lips as Marceline gave up hope on the buttons and instead pulled Bonnibel close, nibbling at the exposed skin on her neck.

“Mhm, my dad loves Finn. He watches him during the day sometimes so I can have a little time to myself.” with Marceline’s mouth still attached to her neck, Bonnibel coiled strands of Marceline’s hair around her fingers and tugged. She grinned when a deep growl echoed from the crook of her shoulder.

“You know...” the words were nearly lost as Marceline ghosted the tip of her tongue across the sharp of Bonnibel’s jaw, “... you never did give me a lap dance that night.”

Marceline pulled back and pinned her with a disbelieving glare. “I gave you something way better than a lap dance.”

Bonnibel gave an audible huff as her fingers curled and tugged at the tresses in her hands. She spent a brief moment reveling in the way Marceline’s eyelids pinched closed and her head tipped back, the thin line of her lips parting a fraction to let out a soft moan. “Yes. I suppose. But I can’t help being a little jealous that I never got one.”

Barely opening one eye, Marceline observed Bonnibel as she tugged at her sides, knocking their pelvises together. Marceline leaned forward, her arms wrapping fully around Bonnibel’s waist, and pressed their lips together.

Even though months had passed since their first kiss, Bonnibel could never cope with the intensity of the feelings that it left in her chest when Marceline kissed her so sweetly. It always brought back the memory of the look in Marceline’s eyes when she had first mentioned Finn. In private, when the thought came to her mind, Bonnibel would skirt it relentlessly. She knew when the time came to understand it, she would.

When they finally pulled away from each other, Marceline smiled, sighing softly. “Ok, ok. C’mon.”

Bonnibel grinned in triumph and took Marceline by the hand. Guiding them through the expanse of her apartment they finally came to the modern-style master bedroom, where they spent a long moment embraced in a passionate kiss before Marceline playfully shoved Bonnibel backwards. Still incapable of grace, Bonnibel soon found herself collapsed on her bed, Marceline prowling towards her with a predatory glint in her eye.

“If you want a lap dance you’re gonna have to be a good girl and follow the rules.”

There was a coarse edge to Marceline’s voice as she came to rest straddling Bonnibel’s mid-drift. She pressed no part of her body against Bonnibel except for the fingers that began working at the buttons on her suit once again. As Bonnibel began to raise her hands to settle them on Marceline’s denim covered thighs, she slapped the approaching appendages away.

“First rule: No touching.” Bonnibel let her hands fall back to the bed and groaned. The smirk on Marceline’s face grew as she painstakingly took her time with releasing the buttons.

It took everything Bonnibel had to not grit her teeth and, as Marceline finally undid the last button, she shimmied the garment off Bonnibel’s shoulders and tossed it across the room. Bonnibel went to protest about the rude treatment of a rather expensive article of clothing but Marceline placed a solitary index finger against her lips.

“Second rule: No talking.” Bonnibel threw her hands up in silent exacerbation.

Marceline chuckled in reply while dismounting Bonnibel. She glanced around the room briefly before spotting a media player on the bedside table and retrieving an old, beat-up, iPod from her back pocket. It took her a moment to set it in the player and scroll through an extensive library to the song she was looking for. Bonnibel glimpsed the artists name and frowned at Marceline as she moved back to straddling her lap.

 _Really? Marilyn Manson, Marceline?_ Bonnibel silently communicated with the other woman through one cocked eyebrow.

“Shush, you. ‘Are You The Rabbit?’ is an amazing song! And as far as I’m concerned,” she leaned forward, her nose a hairsbreadth away from Bonnibel’s and smirked, “beggars can’t be choosers.”

She leaned back again, her hips rocking with the steady beat of the bass. Her hands started an exaggerated path up from her thighs and caught the edge of her dark t-shirt as she went, peeling the article away to first expose the smoothness of her abdomen, and then the sight of her breasts cupped tenderly in a floral laced black bra. Bonnibel wanted so badly to be that fabric and to touch Marceline’s skin. She bit back a whimper while casually sliding her hands behind her head where they wouldn’t betray her.

When Marceline finally pulled the shirt over her head, she made a show of shaking her hair out while tossing her shirt off to the side where it joined Bonnibel’s jacket on the ground. Marceline’s eyes were half-lidded and red-hot with lust when she finally gazed down at Bonnibel. Running her fingers through the dark mess of hair, the gyrations of her hips lowered to where they began grazing against the rise of Bonnibel’s pelvis.

The song mounted, growing more relentless to Bonnibel’s ears as she struggled to keep her composure. Marceline was lost to it, her eyes closed and her hands wandering her own body as she ground herself harder and harder against Bonnibel’s body. It took everything Bonnibel had not to pull a chunk of her hair out as she watched Marceline bite her bottom lip and barely contain a moan as the grinding began to stroke her through her jeans. Just as Bonnibel felt her self-control retreat, Marceline reached out and gripped her by the collar of her shirt, yanking her into a sitting position where she locked their lips together.

Bonnibel’s hands immediately went to Marceline’s back, flicking the hooks of her bra open and banishing the article to the growing pile of discarded clothing. She pulled her lips from Marceline’s, moving her mouth to take an already pert nipple onto her tongue. Marceline arched her back and gasped as she made quick work of ripping open the button and zipper to her jeans. She gripped one of Bonnibel’s hands and shoved it past the waistband of her pants and under the silk material of her panties.

A long moan came from Marceline as Bonnibel curled her fingers into the slickness of her warmth. She groaned against Marceline’s breast, her free hand moving to cradle it while her mouth continued to suckle, her tongue flicking relentlessly at the sensitive nipple. Maneuvering her hand deeper into the suffocating confines of the denim pants, she suddenly felt the sensation of her middle finger slipping, unhindered, inside of Marceline’s body.

She paused, looking up questioningly, only to be greeted with the sensation of Marceline’s nails digging into her scalp and the view of her tilting her head back in silent ecstasy. She rocked against Bonnibel’s hand, her stiffened jewel rubbing into Bonnibel’s palm as she added a second finger inside, curling the digits to thrust against the rumpled pleasure point inside of her.

Marceline shuddered against the fingers inside of her; the rocking of her hips becoming more fervent as she broke Bonnibel’s lips from her breast. Their tongues met and twisted together as Marceline reached down, hiking up Bonnibel’s skirt until her fingers found the drenched front of Bonnibel’s thong. Bonnibel gasped, but refused to relent, as Marceline’s digits easily slipped past the material covering her womanhood and began tracing patterns against her swollen pleasure point.

It almost sent Bonnibel over her breaking point to feel those actions without the barrier of her undergarment and she found herself biting down on Marceline’s shoulder to contain the pleasure. Determination welled up in Bonnibel and despite the exhilarating feel of Marceline’s index finger swirling against her entrance, she pressed a third finger inside of Marceline. Nails bit into Bonnibel’s neck as Marceline softly screamed her approval.

Without warning, Marceline thrust the digit inside of her. There was a moment where she was certain her teeth had finally broken the skin on Marceline’s shoulder, but the thought melted away as the pleasure from having Marceline inside of her began to throw her over the edge. They ground and moved with each other, matching the volume of their moans and panted screams until their sweat-slick bodies finally trembled against one another. Screams hitched in throats, teeth and nails caught mercilessly on unclothed skin, and when they had finally come to a halt their only form of communication was the huffs of air they released through thirsty mouths.

The strength in Bonnibel’s back gave out and she collapsed back onto the bed with Marceline on top of her. It took everything she had to retrieve her weary arms from their current locations and drape them around Marceline’s torso. She traced invisible designs with her fingertips, watching with amusement as she caused the muscles to tense.

They may have laid there forever if it hadn’t been for the soft chime of Marceline’s cell phone. There was a moment where Bonnibel had imagined that she had fallen asleep on top of her, until a muffled groan, followed by Marceline reluctantly rolling off of her, told her otherwise.

Face-down on the mattress, Marceline retrieved her cellphone from her back pocket and squinted at the message on the screen. Bonnibel rolled on her side and watched as Marceline groaned, suddenly becoming more alert.

“Turns out my dad won’t be able to watch Finn tonight. Looks like I’m gonna have to call a sitter.” she sighed, beginning to flick through the contacts in her phone.

Bonnibel reached out and snatched the phone from her hands, sleeping the screen and handing it back to her. “I’ll watch him for you.”

There was a long pause where Marceline stared at her with disbelief. “Really?”

“Yea. I mean. If you don’t mind. I just sort of imagined it would make things-”

“Nah nah, that’d be great, Bonni.” Marceline leaned over and placed a soft kiss against Bonnibel’s lips before starting to dress.

When Marceline had left, Bonnibel continued to lay in the same spot. She ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the ceiling, remembering the look in Marceline’s eyes on their first date when she had mentioned Finn, and the feelings she felt whenever they shared those long, thoughtful, kisses. She wondered, and not for the first time, if Marceline could truly love her that much, and Bonnibel couldn’t help feeling the way she did.

She felt absolutely terrified.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Neon green burned the message “6:47 PM” from the cars dash. Bonnibel nudged the gear shift into park and sat for a moment, gazing out the windshield to observe the house she had pulled up beside.

It was quaint and far more generous than she had been expecting; not that she would ever tell Marceline that. The area it was in was one Bonnibel was vaguely familiar with. A quiet neighborhood, set barely a block from an elementary school, with little to no crime record. The streetlamps were bright, and as her eyes trailed down the road to where the other houses rested she could see windows illuminated a vivacious yellow. She glanced at her phone again, triple-checking the address, before taking a deep-breath and exiting her vehicle.

The front yard was well kept, what with it’s freshly cut lawn and trimmed hedges. The house itself was like the rest in the neighborhood, colored tan and accented with a milk-chocolate brown. As she neared the front door, she noticed the soft orange glow from the windows. Hesitating slightly, and taking another calming breath, Bonnibel reached her index finger out and rang the doorbell.

A moment passed where there seemed to be no one inhabiting the residence. Bonnibel craned her head to the side to peek in through the rippled glass next to the door. As she did, she heard the sound of light footfalls on the other side of the wall, followed by a squeal, a feminine roar, and subsequent giggling.

“Gotchya yah, yah little butt!” The distinct sound of Marceline’s voice echoed past the barrier between them. Sounds of unbridled laughter continued for a few moments before Bonnibel heard the _flick_ and _click_ of the door’s lock.

When the it opened, she was greeted with the sight of Marceline struggling to keep a young boy situated in her arms. Bonnibel couldn’t help but smile as he managed to wriggle his way past gripping fingers and entangling arms to a spot on his mother’s shoulders. Marceline sighed and looked up at Bonnibel, a look of defeat plastered across her features.

“Bonni, this is Finn.” she nodded her head up towards the boy. He had placed his head on top of Marceline’s, covering his face with fistfuls of her hair. “Say ‘hello’, Finn.”

One crystal blue eye peeked through the midnight locks. A tuft of mussy blonde hair bobbed slightly as the boy lifted his head from his hiding place, his eyes darting from looking at Bonnibel to anywhere but her. His response was soft and practically inaudible, “Hi.”

“Hello, Finn.” Bonnibel smiled and extended her hand to where the boy was. He was already starting to burrow himself back into his mother’s hair.

Stealing a glance from his hiding spot, Finn grabbed the plastic tiara that had been sitting on Marceline’s head and extended it to Bonnibel’s awaiting hand. “You’re the Princess now.”

The excitement in his voice caused Bonnibel to giggle softly as she accepted the tiara and placed it on her head. Splaying her fingers before her, she smiled regally at him. “How do I look?”

“Like a really pretty princess!” Grinning wide, Finn displayed the small teeth lining his mouth, sans the few that had fallen out. Bonnibel lowered her eyes to Marceline’s face, finding that she had been watching her interact with her son, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Well, I was the Queen. But I think you’re right Finn, Bonni does look like a pretty princess, doesn’t she?” He nodded enthusiastically as Marceline turned to walk back into the house. She held out her hand for Bonnibel, who squeezed the fingers in her own and followed, taking the moment to calm away the blush that had crept up on her cheeks.

The house had already been impressive to Bonnibel but the added effect of an incredibly clean home left her speechless. She recalled the messes she had made as a child; such messes that her mother to that day still complained about them. Even with a child, the place was immaculate. Right down to the grout in the tile flooring. It was obvious to her that Marceline’s housekeeping habits were top-notch and she mentally added the perk to her ever-growing list.

As they entered the living room, Marceline lifted Finn from her shoulders and set him on the ground. He frowned a little before running off. Marceline followed him with her eyes and sighed, chuckling as he disappeared.

“He can be a bit of a handful sometimes, but when it comes to kids I lucked out.” She scratched at the back of her head, turning to face Bonnibel who had already taken a seat on the maroon colored couch.

“He seems like a sweetheart.” Bonnibel patted the spot next to her, and Marceline took the invitation.  

“Yes, well, he shouldn’t give you any problems. It’s just me he harrasses.” Marceline stretched out, placing her arm over Bonnibel’s shoulders. Bonnibel melted against her, reveling in her presence before she began to fidget. “I gotta get ready for work.”

Bonnibel tightened her lips to one side, becoming aware of the dense pit of jealousy that settled in her gut. The sensation lessened as Marceline leaned over and brushed her lips against hers. They smiled briefly at each other before Marceline hefted herself from the couch and walked off down the same hallway Finn had vanished through.

The lull in the excitement left Bonnibel to stew over her reaction. She had never been the most in touch with her feelings, even when she was young. Her father had always been the stoic projection of what she envisioned herself to be one day. So even through her educational career, she perfected and maintained the art of ignoring her emotions.

Now there she was, incapable of denying what she was feeling. She was becoming exponentially more distraught as time wore on, and she knew that Marceline had become aware of it’s trigger. On more than one occasion Bonnibel had picked up on her subtle habit of skirting any discussions of her work or workplace. She knew her profession bothered Bonnibel, just as much as Bonnibel knew Marceline was not going to give it up. They were locked in stalemate; no obvious answer to their unspoken conflict.

Her contemplations were broken when Finn ran back into the room, an odd white cap covering his hair and a matching sheet tied around his neck like a cape. He held a plastic sword in one hand, raising it to the ceiling before dropping to one knee in front of Bonnibel. She was barely able to contain her smile at the action.

“Princess! Please let me be your knight!” Finn continued to stay on his knee, glancing up at Bonnibel occasionally. She tapped her forefinger against her chin in faux thoughtfulness.

“Well, Sir Finn, are you strong and brave enough for the task?” He jumped to his feet at her words, pounding his fist against his puffed-out chest.

“I am the strongest and most bravest there is! My mommy says so!” She nodded her head slowly, pretending to be deeply consider his offer.

“Well then, Sir Finn, I would have to say,” she paused dramatically and watched as the boy shuffled impatiently, “yes.”

The smile that graced Finn’s face was one that Bonnibel was familiar with. He was definitely Marceline’s son if he could smile at her with such unbridled emotion. Bonnibel found herself dumbfounded at the action, and incapable of forming a response. The sound of a throat being cleared became her solstice as the situation rapidly became uncomfortable.

“I’m off to work.” Marceline walked up to Finn and kneeled beside him, smoothing her hand over his bear-eared white cap. “You gonna make sure the Princess is safe while I’m gone?”

He nodded enthusiastically, leaning up on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Marceline’s neck. She enveloped him in an embrace before drawing away to place a kiss on his forehead. He reacted to the overly affectionate act by sticking his tongue out and wiping the back of his hand against his forehead. The word “gross” was murmured from his lips as Marceline turned her attention to Bonnibel.

“I’ll be home in the early morning. If you want, there are a bunch of DVDs laying around. Finn can pick one out for you two to watch.” they both glanced at him, a sudden burst of excitement coursed through his wide-eyes at the news. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge if either of you gets hungry.” Marceline leaned over and placed her lips next to Bonnibel’s ear. “If he starts to get out of hand, the movie should put him to sleep in no time.” she quickly kissed Bonnibel’s cheek before standing back up and making for the front door, shouting out her final response as it was about to close. “I’ll see you both in the morning. I love you.”

“Bye mommy, I love you too!” Finn called after her, waving frantically.

“Bye, Marcy.” Bonnibel swallowed back another well of emotions at Marceline’s farewell, uncertain if she should have added more to her response. The door closed and the lock snapped into place, leaving just Finn and Bonnibel in the cozy living space.

It turned out that even if Bonnibel’s knowledge on how to entertain a four year-old was sparse, Finn was a pro at entertaining his sitters. He quickly turned his attention back to Bonnibel and began spinning a rambled tale of how she had been kidnapped by an evil wizard.

“Here!” He collected all of the pillows he could find, even the ones that Bonnibel was certain were from Marceline’s room, and set to building a fortress from them. Once the size and shape had been set in pillow form, he took Bonnibel by the hand and guided her to where the structure was. She took the hint and sat down in the middle, raising the back of her hand to her forehead and feigning a worried look.

“Oh, woe is me! Whoever will save me from the evil wizard? They’d certainly have to be the bravest and most strongest knight in all the land!”  

Finn puffed out his chest again, and raised the sword he was holding. “I’ll save you Princess! And become the hero of Ooo!” Bonnibel found herself having to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter.

He had an impressive imagination. Bonnibel found that while she had always been constrained to one world as a child, Finn had two. The one he lived in with his mother, and the second one, where he was the hero of a mythical land named Ooo. She found the entire situation refreshing, as well as contagious. By the time Finn had saved her from the evil wizard, who he continued to refer to as the “Ice King”, it was late. Even by Bonnibel’s standards.

“Ok, Finn the Hero. Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch?” She took a spot on the couch once again, curling her legs up underneath her.

Finn went to work laying out rows of DVDs on the floor. He picked through them meticulously, discarding the ones that he didn’t want to watch until he had weeded out most of them, leaving three to choose from. He hopped up onto the couch next to Bonnibel and showed them to her.

“You can choose, Princess.” She scanned the DVD cases he had brought to her, only recognizing the title to one and picking it from the batch.

“How about this one?” Finn’s eyes lit up as he nodded approvingly at her choice.

She smiled at him and took the case for “Beauty and the Beast” and popped it open. Getting up from her space on the couch she moved to the television opposite of it and slid the disk into the player. When she turned around to join Finn again she noticed he had rounded up a few pillows and a blanket. Sitting back down, she braced her back against the arm of the couch and placed a pillow on her lap. Grabbing Finn under the armpits, she hefted him up, seating him on the pillow, then took the blanket from his hands and wrapped it around them both.

As the movie started, Finn snuggled closer into Bonnibel’s chest and placed his index finger in his mouth. She felt that if Marceline had been there she would have told him to stop, but who was she to deny a young boy such a simple pleasure? Crossing her arms around Finn, she held him to her, waiting for him to drift off to sleep.

“Bonni?” she heard his soft voice just barely over the noise from the TV.

“Yes, Finn?” Bonnibel cooed to him, running her fingers through his hair after removing the cap from his head.

“Are you the reason my mommy is happy?” She paused a moment, uncertain of how to answer.

“Why do you ask?” He shrugged his shoulders and pressed his face further into the blanket.

“She always seems really happy when she talks about you. Or when she says she saw you. I like seeing mommy happy.” Bonnibel perked an eyebrow questioningly at Finn.

“Is she not usually happy?” his response was to shake his head, refusing to give a vocal answer. “Why not?”

He shifted uncomfortably in her arms, nuzzling the plush fabric of the blanket in his balled-up hands. “Mommy says Daddy was a bad guy, and that’s why he’s not around anymore.” Finn’s voice was somber. “She says that he hurt her a lot and that’s why she’s sad sometimes.”

Finn paused and Bonnibel could swear she saw him raise one of his fists to rub at his eyes. She squeezed him just a little bit tighter, knowing words would only fall flat. Bonnibel felt him take a deep breath and before he looked up at her, his eyes slightly red.

“But she’s not sad anymore. Not when you’re around. So you’re the reason she’s happy, right?” His question ended with less confidence, and Bonnibel felt the dam of emotions she had held back for most of her life crumble as she stared in his eyes.

“I guess I am then, aren’t I?” she braved a smile, holding back the sensation to let tears fall.

“And you won’t ever leave?” His eyes were suddenly hopeful and bright.

“Never ever.”

He smiled at her again, the same smile from earlier that day, the same smile she had seen Marceline give her. She pulled him close again, wrapping him in her entirety and when she knew he had finally fallen asleep, Bonnibel cried until slept found her as well.

****

Bonnibel’s dreams of candy kingdoms, and the mystical land of Ooo were cut short when she felt the soft brush of Marceline’s lips against her cheek. She opened her eyes, observing first the DVD menu that had been playing on repeat for hours, then Finn, who was still sound asleep in her lap. A soft chuckle left Marceline’s throat as she looked the scene up and down.

“C’mon. Help me get him to bed, Bon.” Marceline kissed her forehead, nuzzling her gently until Bonnibel managed to stand up with Finn cradled in her arms.

Marceline escorted her down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of Finn’s room where she waited for Bonnibel to enter before she did. After setting the boy gently on the mattress, she watched as Marceline pulled the comforter over his body and placed a singular kiss on his forehead. He squirmed in his sleep and Bonnibel found she couldn’t help but grin. After they had vacated Finn’s room, Bonnibel turned to head back to the living room but Marceline caught her by the elbow, keeping her from walking away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Marceline’s voice was hushed, her tone playful.

“Home?” she had thought it was obvious. Marceline just smirked, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her close. Bonnibel craned back in her arms, the smell the cabaret had left on Marceline caused her nose to wrinkle.

“Stay here tonight.” The statement was as much an offer as it was a command. Bonnibel glanced at her wrist watch, and sighed. It was late, and she wasn’t especially keen on leaving in the first place.

“Fine. But only if you shower first. You smell terrible.” Laughing softly, Marceline leaned forward and stole Bonnibel’s lips, kissing her gently before parting from her.

Leading the way to her bedroom, Marceline parted for the master bathroom only after kissing Bonnibel one more time and assuring her that it was alright to lay down in her bed.

“I won’t be mad if you fall asleep. I’m sure Finn gave you a run for your money.” Marceline’s voice drifted from the bathroom, the sound of running water following her words.

Plopping onto the queen-sized bed, Bonnibel shimmied her way underneath the fleece blanket and cotton sheets, resting her head on one of the plush pillows that had managed to escape Finn’s fort building. Despite still being exhausted, she found it impossible to fall back asleep.

“Still awake, huh?” Marceline asked after exiting the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her mid-drift. Her hands were busy with another towel and the sopping-wet mess that was her hair.

“Yea. Hey, Marcy?”

“Mmm?” After drying her hair as well as she could, Marceline pulled on panties and a tank then made her way to where Bonnibel laid in her bed.

“I have a question.” Another light chuckle met Bonnibel’s ears as Marceline managed to pull the blankets from her and scoot underneath. She shifted close to Bonnibel before responding.

“And I might have an answer.” The light slap that Bonnibel delivered to Marceline’s cheek was taken with a wry grin.

“What...” she faltered a moment and Marceline’s eyebrows pinched together in concern. “What happened between Finn’s father and you?”

Marceline relaxed her features, replacing it with a thoughtful gaze. “Is there something specific you want to know, or do you just want a broad overview of that portion of my life?” She brought her hand to Bonnibel’s face, softly tracing a line across her forehead to catch the stray hairs that had begun to dangle in her eyes.

“You’ve never told me anything about it.”

“Because it was a terrible period of my life and the only good thing that came from it was Finn. I’ve been trying my best to forget about it.” Her words harbored a deep bitterness.

“It’s still your past, though. And it’s still a part of you, even if you do forget.” They laid silently staring at each other for a while after Bonnibel murmured those words.

Marceline tipped her head up and sighed. “I knew Ash for a really long time. Through high school, even. And we were sorta just, ‘on-again, off-again’.” Marceline paused, her eyes focusing on a spot past Bonnibel’s head. “We were reckless, and one of our flings ended up being the one that knocked me up when I was twenty. I could tell he didn’t wanna be around but he stayed anyways.” she closed her eyes. “Sometimes I wish he would’ve just left. I should’ve just told him to go.”

Bonnibel cupped her face and brushed her thumbs against Marceline’s temples. “What happened, Marce?”

“Well, after Finn was born he became...” Bonnibel could see the internal conflict for words and waited patiently for Marceline to find them. “He got violent. You don’t want to blame them for it when it happens. You want it to be anyone else’s fault but their own. If it hadn’t been for my dad, I may never had seen what was wrong with Ash’s actions.”

The resolve that Marceline spoke with was admirable to Bonnibel. She leaned forward and captured Marceline’s lips, wanting to express to her through that simple action that everything was going to be alright.

When they pulled away, Marceline wiped away a stray tear before smiling and bumping noses with her. “You’re right, though. I may not be able to ever forget it,” she reached down and took Bonnibel’s hand in hers. “but at least I can start making happier memories to dwell on.”

Smiling, Bonnibel nestled her head back down against the pillow while idly running her fingers through the midnight locks on Marceline’s head.

“Like I said. Finn was the best thing to come from it. I work hard for him and he’ll always be my number one priority.” Bonnibel nodded in understanding.

“And the company will always be mine.”

Marceline’s brow furrowed, and she opened her eyes to pin Bonnibel with a look of confusion. “What do you-”

She was cut short as the door to her room creaked open and Finn teetered in.

“Mommy, I had a bad dream.” He croaked. Dropping her previous concern, Marceline smiled softly and patted the space next to her.

“Oh my poor baby, come here. You can sleep with us tonight.” Finn padded across the room and jumped into bed. Marceline turned and pulled him into her arms while smothering him in kisses. He giggled, writhing in her grip until she stopped.

It was an odd sensation for Bonnibel when she placed her arms around both of them. The warmth of their bodies against her own gave way to an intense feeling of comfort, which in turn, gave way to a satisfied feeling. A much different sense of satisfaction than she was use to. Where the company gave her contentment in her mental prowess, the way she felt around Marceline and Finn seemed to give her a sense of fulfillment. It was like she was whole; completely and utterly. She closed her eyes, daydreaming about what a life filled with only them would be like.

As sleep took her for the second time that night, she found it greeted her with nothing but nightmares. The company was waiting for her there. The board was watching; and Bonnibel couldn’t help but feel the intensity of their ridicule. After all, what fool would jeopardize their family’s company for a stripper?

****

“Don’t you have a board meeting today, Bonni?” Marceline remarked while setting a cup of coffee in front of her. Bonnibel thanked her for the beverage and sipped at it gingerly before replying.

“Yea, important one today. To discuss the annual reports for the company.” Smoothing out the newspaper to the finance section, Bonnibel idly read an article about the collapse of another major business due to the economic struggle. Her company had lucked out and remained unaffected, continuing to crush the competition that opposed them.

“You prepared?” There was a soft clack as Marceline sat a plate of food to the side of Bonnibel’s paper. She looked up from her article to Marceline.

“I’m always prepared.” Bonnibel replied with a cocky grin. Marceline just rolled her eyes and sat down at the table with her, collecting the cartoon section of the newspaper that Bonnibel held out to her.

It had become a habit over the months for Bonnibel to stay at her home during the night to watch Finn. The necessity of it blended with the enjoyment, and Bonnibel began to see less of her own apartment. Most of her clothes had ended up at Marceline’s and she even had her own set of toiletries in the bathroom. Now, every morning before Bonnibel left for work, Marceline would stay up, cooking her breakfast and brewing her coffee. They were all miniscule details but Bonnibel had begun to cherish each one.

They stayed in peaceful silence until Bonnibel finished her breakfast and began posturing herself to leave.

On her way to the front door, Marceline trailed behind her. “Yah know, Bon, you should just move in. You pretty much already live here.”

“Hah!” Bonnibel scoffed, bristling at the notion. “One, you would move in with me, and two, that’s a preposterous idea.” Marceline looked taken aback.

“Why? We’ve been together for almost a year now, not to mention that Finn absolutely adores you and you haven’t been to your own home in days. Why is it so hard to imagine us living together?”

There was a pause. Bonnibel swallowed back the stale taste in her throat. “It would be irresponsible of me.”

“Why? How is it irresponsible to be with the person you love?”

“Marceline. You know full well that the board would think ill of me for that. I have to have their favor to keep my family’s company.”

“This again! I understand that your company comes before a lot of things, but are you going to let it come before me, too?”

Bonnibel kept her gaze stern.

“ _Do_ you even love me?”

There was still no response. Bonnibel began to feel sick, the sensation of bile rising in her chest kept her from answering. Marceline threw her hands up, enraged.

“This has been a complete waste of time, hasn’t it?”

Again, Bonnibel was unable to speak. She opened her mouth, attempting to say anything at all, only to clamp it shut. Marceline shook her head and pointed at the door.

“Get out.”

“Marceline-”

“I. Said. Get. Out.” Bonnibel could see the fire burning in Marceline’s eyes and could feel the intensity of her words. She knew there was nothing she could say in that situation that would convince Marceline to listen to her.

So Bonnibel left. Defeated.

****

_Rippa-tip, rippa-tip, rippa-tip._

It felt like deja vu to Bonnibel. The repetitious actions of board meetings often did. Between the attitudes of the people in the room and her increasingly volatile state of mind, she was finding it hard to contain herself after the events from that morning.

Bonnibel had already snipped a few times during the meeting that day, her bad mood continually worsening. She had spent years containing her emotions, keeping them locked away, and now one person had so easily unlocked it and thrown away the key. She was swimming in her own head. Fighting against a flood that she knew could drown her. Thoughts of Marceline brought her to near tears while simultaneously lighting a defiant fire in her, and the worst part for Bonnibel was that she didn’t know how to make the thoughts go away.  

“Now that all of the important discussions are out of the way, there’s one thing I would like to bring up.” the rhythm of the boardrooms conversation shifted, catching Bonnibel’s attention. She looked up and locked eyes with Braco from across the room. There was something in the way he had postured himself that caused the hairs on Bonnibel’s neck to rise. “Ms. Bubblegum, the board would like to discuss your recent compromising activities.”

She shook her head, uncertain if what she had heard was true. “Compromising activities? What activities are you talking about?"

His eyes were stone cold as he responded. “The board is concerned that you’re having relations with a prostitute and are now unfit to be the figurehead of this company.”

The room was silent. No one shifted in their chairs, no one tapped writing utensils against the polished desk, and no one dared to take their eyes off of Bonnibel. She kept her actions calm as she stood from her seat and began taking steps towards a window to her right. Her hands were clasped behind her and pressed into the small of her back as she gazed out towards the edges of the city. The sun was already low on the horizon.

“When my father passed away, he left instructions and advice for me pertaining to the company.” she turned, taking slow steps towards the other end of the room. “ Most of it was common sense. Things I would have done, regardless of whether he asked me to do them, but there was one piece of advice in particular that I had a hard time accepting.” Bonnibel stopped at the next window to observe the skyline and collect her thoughts. “He advised- no, _demanded_ that I kept tabs on the members of this board. It was something he had done for years. So I did, but only at first so that I could adhere to his wishes.”

Bonnibel chuckled softly, removing her reading glasses from where they had been perched on the tip of her nose and folded them neatly before tapping them into her breast pocket.

“The thing was, that after the first year I realized how important the information that was gathered on all of you was in this game of corporate warfare.” she turned around and smiled at the men who were still seated around the table. “I also realized that witnessing the depravity and corruption of all of you was ultimately the reason why my father committed suicide.”

If the revelation had struck them, it wasn’t apparent. They had mastered facades as well as Bonnibel had. She continued walking until she stood in front of Braco. He seemed small to Bonnibel; insignificant.

When she spoke, it was low. A few of the chairs at the far end of the room squelched as their inhabitants shifted across leather to hear her words. “Who are you to judge me for being in love, when you’ve got blood on your hands?” Braco seemed to shrink in on himself as she towered above him.

Turning to face the rest of her audience, Bonnibel gave a singular nod.

“Now that we’ve cleared the air, gentleman, I think we’ve covered everything for today. Thank you.” With nothing further to say, Bonnibel left the room.

Storming past Tracy, Bonnibel slammed the door to her office closed before leaning her back against it. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to will away her headache before pushing away from the door.

The sun had set, and her office was bathed in darkness as she made her way to the window. She mused silently over how the lights from the city could mimic that of the stars in the night sky as she leaned her shoulder against the wall and set her forehead against the glass. Bonnibel skimmed her eyes over the dots of light, wondering silently if she could pick out the one that belonged to Marceline.

That morning seemed suddenly far away, like it had happened years ago instead of hours. It had been her fault and Bonnibel knew that. She had missed her opportunity on more than one occasion to explain her fears to Marceline; fears that, suddenly, she realized had been irrational. Bonnibel had walked away from the people who completed her, and abandoned that which had become more important to her than the business. She had chosen to flee instead of fight and her chance had come and gone. Bonnibel could only see a bleakness in her future. A future where she would live her life without Marceline and Finn.

Regret washed over her senses, cold and bitter, until she felt tears begin to stream down her face. She lifted her hand to the window pane, feeling the coolness of the glass against her palm.

“... I love you, too, Marceline.” Bonnibel squeezed her eyes shut, struggling against the painful waves of emotions that washed over her.

“I know.”

She refused to open her eyes for the longest time. She knew it was impossible that Marceline was there. Bonnibel figured the ethereal sound of her voice was just an intense case of emotional trauma. So when she opened her eyes, she kept her them angled out the window, the tears still sliding down her cheeks.

“I know you love me, Bonnibel.” This time the voice was louder, more confident, and Bonnibel turned her eyes from the cityscape to look behind her.

It still seemed unreal to Bonnibel that she would turn to see Marceline standing in her office. She was even wearing the same outfit from the first time she had been there. Bonnibel determined there could be no harm in speaking, even if it was just an apparition. “What are you doing here?”

Marceline shrugged while shoving her hands into the pockets in her hoodie. She was standing in the middle of the space, about ten feet from where Bonnibel was. “Tracy called me and told me about what happened with the board meeting.”

Bonnibel’s knew her chances of this being real were dwindling fast after that. “I thought you two despised one another.”

“Nah. Tracy’s cool. She did care enough about you to call me.”

“And how would she have gotten your phone number?” Bonnibel was determined to debunk the blatant lie her subconscious was feeding her.

“You give her your phone all of the time to program in your schedules. Do you really think she hasn’t read a few private text messages for her own amusement?” Marceline cocked an eyebrow and grinned slightly.

A smile tore at Bonnibel’s lips despite herself, and she gave a hoarse chuckle through her tears.

“You should really give her that raise she’s been asking for.”

“She told you to say that, didn’t she?” Marceline shrugged slyly in response to her words.

They locked eyes then. Their playful banter had come to an end and Bonnibel took a deep breath as the severity of the situation returned.

“So I’m guessing she told you everything.” Bonnibel’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yea.”

Marceline took a few steps towards Bonnibel, her hands stayed in her pockets as she looked around the room. Bonnibel could tell that she was mulling over something. Debating what to say next.

“I quit my job.” Bonnibel shook her head in disbelief. When she opened her eyes, Marceline was still there.

“Why?”

“Because relationships are about compromise.” she took a few steps closer to Bonnibel, narrowing the distance between them till she was only a few feet away. “And I’m willing to change some things to keep you around, but it’s not going to work if this-” she motioned to the room around them, “continues to rule the way you live your life.”

Reaching out, Bonnibel went to touch her fingertips to Marceline’s chest. A fresh batch of tears formed in her eyes when she felt the coarseness of the cotton hoodie instead of air. She curled her fingers into the material and pulled Marceline to her, burying her face in her shoulder as she began to sob.

She could feel Marceline’s arms wrap around her, and hear her cooing sweet nothings softly. As soon as her breakdown subsided, Bonnibel looked up at Marceline and nodded her head.

“Compromise.”

Marceline smiled at her response and leaned down to press their lips together. All of Bonnibel’s fear melted away in that kiss and she pressed in closer, wanting to imprint Marceline upon herself. Bonnibel brushed her palms up Marceline’s chest, smoothing her them over Marceline’s neck and lacing her fingers in the locks at the base of her hairline.

She deepened the kiss, her mouth working hungrily. Warmth pooled in her abdomen as she felt Marceline’s hands rest on her hips, and the sting of her nails as they dug in when Bonnibel traced her tongue along her lower lip. Marceline’s breathing was coming in labored pants as Bonnibel pulled roughly at the hair she had captured in her hands.

Marceline’s head tipped back, followed by a low groan through clenched teeth. She pressed against Bonnibel until she had her pinned against the wall, her lips pressing against her neck while her fingers began savagely pulling the buttons of Bonnibel’s jacket free.

It took no time for her to pull them loose and when she finished she began working at the button-up shirt underneath, all the while nipping and sucking from Bonnibel’s earlobe to her shoulder. Bonnibel raised her hand to her mouth, biting down on her index finger to suppress her sounds as Marceline pressed her upper thigh against her dampening core.

Pulling away from Bonnibel’s neck, Marceline glanced at the shirt she had been unsuccessful in opening and gripped it on both sides. Buttons popped and flew across the room as she exposed Bonnibel’s chest through brute force, and before she could protest, Marceline’s fingers slid under the cover of her bra to cup a supple breast in her hand.

Dipping her head down, Marceline took Bonnibel’s pert nipple in her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, her teeth scraping gently at the sensitive flesh. Bonnibel could feel her knees giving out and attempted to brace herself against the wall. Both of her hands gripped at Marceline’s neck and shoulders and despite her best efforts to stay quiet, Bonnibel’s whimpers and moans began to escalate. It seemed to soon when Marceline pulled away from her chest, leaving her to whimper softly, missing the contact.

Marceline kept their eyes locked as she slowly dropped to her knees, a devious smirk beginning to play across her face. She ran her hands up the outsides of Bonnibel’s legs and under her skirt, purposefully reaching around as she got to the top so that she could squeeze her buttocks. Bonnibel bucked forward from the motion, her cheeks flushing when she felt Marceline’s fingers catch on the hem of her panties. Her actions were deliberately drawn out as she eased them down her legs, and Bonnibel could feel the soft scrape of Marceline’s nails against her thighs and calves before she lifted her leg and freed the material over one of her feet.

In a sudden moment of courage, Bonnibel took the hem of her skirt and hiked it up around her hips, then curled her fingers into Marceline’s locks. Relief washed over her when she felt Marceline’s tongue slip past her outer lips and press against her swollen bundle of nerves. Her head lolled back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

She guided Marceline’s actions, pressing her close and savoring the feel of the electric shocks that shot through her body as her hips bucked and ground against swirls and flicks. Marceline draped one of Bonnibel’s legs over her shoulder to steady her as she began to shake more violently from her ministrations. As soon as she felt the sensation of Marceline’s fingers slipping into her body Bonnibel lost control of her voice. The sensation of being thrust into combined with the ever-quickening pace of Marceline’s tongue caused her vision to blur, and all she could concentrate on was the pressure building inside of her until it finally heightened and broke.

The next thing Bonnibel was aware of was being held. She had completely lost the will to stand after cresting and Marceline had caught her, pulling her into her lap and waiting for her to come back around. Looking up, Bonnibel marveled in the beauty that was Marceline until she felt tears on her face once again.

That time though, Marceline was there to catch them as they fell.

 

Epilogue

 

“Mrs. Bubblegum, Marceline is here.” Tracy’s voice cut through the silence in Bonnibel’s office. She reached a finger out and held down a button on her phone.

“Thank you, Tracy. Please let her in.” Bonnibel looked up and smiled when Marceline entered the room, watching as she made her way to where she was seated.

“Hey babe. How was ‘bring your kid to work’ day?” Marceline rounded the desk and placed a kiss on Bonnibel’s forehead. She leaned back in her chair and stretched.

“About as unproductive as I expected it to be.” Her response was greeted with a chuckle before it abruptly stopped.

“Uh. Bonni?”

“Yes, Marceline?”

“Where’s Finn?” Marceline was looking around her office, a look of concern creeping across her face.

Bonnibel just shrugged and returned to scrawling out notes. “Don’t know. Check the closet. He’s probably in there trying to be sneaky.”

Marceline’s eyebrows knitted together as she stepped away and began making her way to the closet. As soon as Marceline had left her side, Bonnibel nudged Finn gently with her shoe to set their plan in motion. He crept out from underneath her desk and snuck up behind his mother, jumping on her back and nearly toppling her. Bonnibel burst out laughing as Marceline squealed.

“You two are gonna give me a heart attack!”

Bonnibel rolled her eyes, remnants of a smile still on her face, and waited for the two to untangle from each other. Once they had finished their wrestling match they sat in front of Bonnibel’s desk and waited for her to finish what she was working on.

“So, mama, what do you want for your thirty-second birthday?” She glanced up over her reading glasses at Finn and smiled. Getting up and moving to where they were seated she placed her arms over them.

“All I want for my birthday is some time with my son and wife.” She kissed both of them on their cheeks before gathering her purse and coat. Marceline and Finn stood up and headed for the door.

In a moment of silent contemplation, Bonnibel watched them as they departed before her. It had been so long since Marceline and her had gotten married, and it seemed even longer since that she had sold her loft to move into Marceline’s cozy home. It worked out better than either of them had hoped. Marceline got to stay at home with Finn, and Bonnibel had a family to come home to at night. It was the future and life that Bonnibel had never realized she needed.

“Bonni, you comin’?”

Marceline called from the doorway, one hand holding it open while she held Finn by the collar, keeping him from running off.

Her voice roused Bonnibel from her memories and she smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Yea, let’s go home.”

 

 

 


End file.
